


And Now For Something Different

by NotSoSirius92



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Post-War, Potions, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoSirius92/pseuds/NotSoSirius92
Summary: When Hermione and Draco are partnered in potions, Sparks Fly.This is in response to the LiveJournals 2019 Smutty Claus fest. A gift to rayvyn2k. Enjoy!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 19
Kudos: 157





	And Now For Something Different

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rayvyn2k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvyn2k/gifts).



> Thank you to ArielSakura and KikkyNikky - my awesome betas.  
> Thanks to rayvyn2k for giving me awesome prompts.

Draco Malfoy stepped into the classroom with trepidation. Coming back to Hogwarts was turning out to be a mistake of colossal proportions. At the beginning of the term he had been back on campus for twenty-four hours and had no less than three underclassmen attempt to curse him. He had wondered if the entire year would be like this. 

Draco dismissed their attempts with a casual “finite” here and a sidestep there, but it was still rather annoying. 

Now though, as the term progressed, he found that it was only a small contingent of some younger students. The older students left him alone, mostly because they had all fought too much to continue doing so now. The older students, the ones who had actually borne the brunt of the war at Hogwarts, were just too tired.

That’s not to say he actually had friends -- or allies. 

Most people, even the few eighth year Slytherins who were still alive, avoided him unless absolutely necessary. 

Draco Malfoy was out of Azkaban on pleas of coercion, and most of them who had Death Eater parents resented him because of it. 

Draco was not bothered by this though. He had barely escaped Azkaban by the skin of his teeth, and only due to the testimonies of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. It had been surprising, to say the least, when they had shown up for his trial. 

Draco had been under the impression he couldn’t be surprised anymore. 

He was wrong again when Slughorn partnered him with Hermione Granger for the entirety of the year. He had avoided her thus far, only sending her a sincere, “Thank you,” note over the summer after his trial. He was grateful, sure, but he didn’t know how to break through seven years of ill will to actually let her know he wasn’t that person any more. 

Granger had also filled out since the last time he’d seen her. She had put on a healthy amount of weight, making her breasts full and hips lush. He could grudgingly admitted years ago that she wasn’t unbearable to look at, but now without the stress of Voldemort lurking around the corner, Granger was kind of beautiful. 

“So,” he said casually, and her brows rose at being addressed without malice. “When would you like to get together to start this project?”

“I suppose you’re not free now, then?” was her reply. 

He only nodded before collecting his things and following her out. Draco wasn’t about to admit that he never had plans, because there wasn’t a soul in Hogwarts that wanted his company. 

They walked silently next to each other, which was okay - Draco was used to silence. 

“Our thesis needs to be strong,” Granger mused out loud, causing Draco to startle slightly before composing himself and replying.

“Yes, Slughorn will expect nothing less from the two of us.”

He was surprised when she stopped, not in front of the oaken doors of the Library, but on the seventh floor corridor. 

“I thought the Room of Requirement was destroyed?” He asked, somewhat baffled, following her through to where she’d turned the room into a research lab of sorts, complete with rows of obscure texts, and a potions lab. 

“You mean you thought that your mate destroyed it,” she corrected, and he turned to face her again, his mouth turning downwards. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said quietly. 

“Well, your lot didn’t manage to destroy everything, just most of it.”

He felt an old, familiar surge of anger. Granger and he were well versed in this game of one-uppers, and to be honest, Draco needed to unleash his tightly contained fury on someone. Granger could take it. 

“Let's get one thing straight, Granger,” he stepped towards her menacingly, only stopping when her wand was pressing against his jugular. “We have eight years of bad blood between each other, most of which was my fault. I understand you hate me, but can you not poke at wounds that aren’t even healed? That friend is dead if you recall.” 

She peered curiously at him, an array of emotions flickering across her face. 

“You’re right,” she acquiesced, “that was rather callous of me. Though, I don’t see why this is so hard for you.” 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. This was the thing with Gryffindors, everything was black and white with them. They had no instincts towards self-preservation. They just did the right thing, all the time. 

“Just because I was doing his bidding doesn’t mean it was consensual nor does it mean I escaped unharmed. You were not the only one tortured in that house.”

“Oh yes, you were tortured, weren’t you? Well, at least it wasn’t because you were viewed as less than human. Your family had a choice!” Draco had no idea why she was getting so worked up. But her face was red, and her chest was heaving in a way that spoke of an enticing curvature. He kept his eyes on hers. 

“I never had a choice. And it was all because people like you --” he tried not to flinch as she sneered at him, “-- think that I am nothing more than an uppity Mudblood.”

She made to turn away from him, but was stopped short as a vice-like grip encased her wrist. 

Hermione looked into his face, the angular lines of his jaw etched in a cold fury that she hadn’t seen in years. 

Draco yanked her towards him, and she was overwhelmed by the commanding presence radiating off him in waves. She was crushed against the wall of the Room of Requirement by his weight. A hard body -- surprisingly -- pressing against hers as his fingers gripped her jaw tightly, so tightly it would probably bruise. 

His eyes were mercurial, as much as he was. They were slightly manic, and she felt both frightened and exhilarated as his lips covered hers. 

It was not a nice kiss. 

It was bruising, punishing and unforgiving. It was years of pent up frustration and hatred towards each other. Draco wasted no time in plunging his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her moan whilst he simultaneously gripped both of her hands above her head to keep her from touching him. 

He rutted against her forcefully, and Hermione could feel the effect she had on him. She spread her legs wantonly, and only a small part of her was concerned about the repercussions of her actions. 

One of his hands encased hers, the other still on her jaw, in that bruising grip of his. She was ready to throw caution to the wind and grind herself against him when, suddenly, he was shoving away from her. 

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, getting rid of the damning evidence her lip balm left across his mouth, and he eyed her with an intense emotion that -- damn it all -- she could not identify. 

“Don’t call yourself that,” was all he said before exiting the Room of Requirement and leaving her to ponder what the fuck had just happened. 

He spent the next few weeks watching her. 

Their kiss in the Room of Requirement had awakened something in Draco that he had thought had only been a result of being forced into the Death Eater lifestyle. 

Her submission -- it appealed to him greatly. 

The way she’d offered herself to him -- subconsciously, he was sure -- was a potent aphrodisiac he had not felt in months. 

She was sitting next to him, her brow furrowed in consternation as she perused through Moste Potente Potions. 

“This is no use,” she sighed in frustration and turned abruptly to look at him. “Want to head to the dungeons early? Maybe we can find something in Slughorn’s collection.” 

He inclined his head towards her and made to grab his belongings. He could feel her eyes on him.

“See something you like, Granger?”

She bristled slightly, “I’m just wondering why you’re being… well, nice.”

He stood up and walked towards her. “I guess I’ve just realized some things are more important to me than blood purity. Like escorting a pretty witch to the dungeons.” He held out his arm to her, and Hermione rolled her eyes before ignoring him and walking ahead. 

“I also appreciate that you’re the only person who doesn’t treat me different. You don’t fear me, nor do you turn your nose up at me. It’s refreshing.” He watched as she slowed her pace to match his, and he hid a smile. 

He also appreciated the subtle curve of her waistline. 

“Well, after what you said a few weeks ago,” she pointedly did not mention their kiss, and he smirked, “I realized that the effort it takes to be angry at you just isn’t what I want to focus on. We’re still here, and I suppose we should try and make the best of it.” 

“Speaking of making the best of things...” He stopped abruptly, spinning her to face him and placed a quick kiss on her mouth. 

Hermione sputtered indignantly. 

“Malfoy! What makes you think you can keep kissing me?” 

He gave her a small smile, delighted at seeing her so flustered. “Because you keep letting me.” 

Draco enjoyed the view of her arse as she stomped ahead of him, and he luxuriated in the warm feelings that washed over him. 

Malfoy, she snarled to herself as they entered the potions lab. The next class wasn’t set to start for another half hour or so, and she was sure she could find an old essay or two to reference from Slughorn’s journals. 

Why did he kiss me again? More importantly, why did I want him to? 

Hermione supposed she’d been playing with danger for so long that she quietly resented the normalcy of the life she’d been living since the end of the war. 

This was a different kind of danger. 

The way his gaze roved over her when he thought she wasn’t looking was enough to drive her mental. He was broken, but still strong -- just like she was -- and Hermione found something about his demeanor highly appealing. 

He didn’t beg her forgiveness, or try to make amends. He just accepted what happened and was trying to find some semblance of peace in the aftermath. 

Just like she was. 

Maybe what Hermione Granger needed was a little bit of excitement. 

They spent the better part of the morning pouring through textbooks and some old journals of Professor Snape’s, which proved most helpful. Hermione was quite satisfied with the progress they made. 

“Well, Malfoy. I’m going to return these to the storage room, and then I think we’re done for the day.” 

He merely inclined his head, his mercurial stare boring into her as she stood. 

She flushed. 

The storage room was dimly lit and smelled of spices. Various nooks and crannies stuffed with vials and parchments were strewn about and Hermione couldn’t help but think Snape was rolling in his grave at the unacceptable mess. 

She chuckled a bit as she imagined his sour expression. 

She jumped a little when hands gripped her waist and spun her around.

There was no one there. 

“What the --“ was all she said, as an invisible hand covered her mouth and a body pressed her against the shelves. 

“Shhhh,” Draco’s head appeared out of nowhere. “No need to be afraid, Granger.” 

“Unhand me, Malfoy!” She said indignantly, “And also, how did you manage an invisibility cloak?” 

He smirked, and remained pressed up against her, “Potter may have the rarest of invisibility cloaks, but there are others in existence too, Granger.”

“Oh.” 

She knew that, but all she could focus on was the feel of his body against hers and she really, really didn’t want to react to it. 

He ground against her, causing a small moan to escape her throat. 

“Granger,” he whispered against her ear, “I want you, you want me. It could be simple.” 

He tossed the cloak over her head, and his teeth grazed the shell of her ear. 

It was so wrong, but hadn’t they suffered enough? Would it be so wrong to enjoy something? To feel something other than tremors from nightmares of dark hair and carved skin? 

She had tremors now, but for another reason entirely. 

Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat, and though she’d hate herself for it later, when his hand snaked under the front of her skirt, she enthusiastically parted her legs. He slipped his fingers between them and Hermione heard him groan as he laid his forehead against her shoulder. 

The fabric of the invisibility cloak brushed across her skin, creating a delicious sensation that complimented the pressure his fingers were applying. 

“Malfoy…” she whispered, “We shouldn’t be doing this…” 

She heard the zipper to his trousers being pulled down. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he said as he aligned himself at her entrance. 

Her head fell against her arms that were braced against the shelves, and Hermione surrendered. 

Draco slid inside her, inch by glorious inch, and his eyes rolled at the sensation. 

She was wet and warm and better than he had ever imagined. He teased her clit mercilessly and smirked when she pressed back against him. 

The shuffle of feet in the classroom caused both of them to pause in alarm, and Draco stilled. 

Neither one of them moved. 

“Okay, class,” came Slughorn’s voice, “today you’ll be brewing the Draught of Living Death. First place potion will receive a little prize at the end from yours truly. Begin!” 

The class of sixth year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws moseyed in and out of the storage room, grabbing the ingredients they needed to complete their assignment. They were unaware of the amorous couple in the back, invisible and intertwined. 

Draco began moving slowly, in and out of her. 

“You see, Hermione?” he whispered. “One wrong move and they’ll see us. Do you think they would enjoy the view of me fucking you against the stacks? I know I do.” 

He hit a deep angle inside of her and Hermione bit her fist to keep from crying out. 

“Does anyone else know what kind of girl you are? That you’re going to come all over my cock while a class full of students is right on the other side of the door?” 

Draco swivelled his hips and began pistoning in and out of her, a lightning-quick pace that, combined with his filthy whisperings, had her convulsing around him and breathing heavily. 

“Shh,” he crooned into the shell of her ear, “I’m going to come inside of you, and then we’re going to sneak out of here, and no one will know just how filthy you are.” 

She moaned almost imperceptibly, and Draco slammed into her one last time, emptying himself of thought, regret and action. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, and Draco slid out of her, casting a disillusionment charm over the two of them. 

He couldn’t see her anymore, and could no longer hear the sound of her breathing. 

Draco slipped past the classroom of potioneers, and made his way to the eighth year Common Room with a swagger in his step. 

He hoped she would be there and that they could talk about what was happening between them. 

Maybe he could ask her on a date or something.

But when he got to the common room, it was empty. 

She ignored him until the weekend. 

Draco wasn’t wholly surprised, but it stung a bit nonetheless. 

The note was simple and gave no indication to what she was thinking. 

Meet me in the RoR, 8pm.  
HG

And so here he was, outside of the Room of Requirement, wondering how he was supposed to get in when the door appeared for him. 

He cast a tempus charm 

8pm on the dot. 

Draco strode in - and his jaw went slack. 

Hermione Granger was in the middle of a large four-poster bed, wearing nothing but green and black negligee that left little to the imagination. 

“You had your fun,” she smirked at him, and beckoned him closer with a curl of her finger. 

He didn’t resist. 

“Now, it’s my turn.” 

FIN


End file.
